


Elements

by TK_DuVeraun



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elves win in this house, Family Reunions, Friends to Lovers, Grief, Herald of Andruil, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Rivals to Lovers, She would do that, stop thinking about mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-12-30 10:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18313850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: Moirdeimmead Lavellan should have waited for Ilena to come back from their camp, but instead he went after the cries for help. The next thing he knows, there's a mark on his hand and a bunch ofshemscalling him the Herald.Things only get worse when his human bodyguard decides to tell everyone heisthe Herald. The Herald of Andruil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elalavella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elalavella/gifts).



The latch on the door broke with a shriek of metal ripped from wood. Aquila Meshurok had her shield between Moirdeimmead Lavellan and the door before the sunlight could hit him. Ghilenan Lavellan held her staff diagonally, blocking the doorway before the Seeker could step inside. The air was tense and thick with magic. Frost spread from Aquila’s feet along the floorboards until crashing into the hot wave of Ilena’s magic. The Chantry woman was either too stupid or too arrogant to notice.

“The Breach worsens. The prisoner must fix this!”

Outside, green light flashed across the snow. Mead yelled in pain and bent double over his left arm, clutching it to his chest. The unpainted edging on Aquila’s shield iced over. She said, “He’s no prisoner.”

“You did this to him. You can’t turn around and demand he fix your mistake,” Ilena spat.

“We did this!” The Seeker exclaimed, taking a step back. “How dare you suggest-”

“Your human Chantry loves solving its problems by declaring genocide against the Dalish. How else were you going to stop the Mage Rebellion?”

A boom accompanied the next flash of light and Mead had to lean against Aquila’s hip to keep from falling out of the cot.

The Seeker shook her head, tossing away whatever response she had for Ilena. “The Mark is killing him. We do not have time for this. Whether or not he caused the explosion, all will be lost if we do not do something soon.”

Mead wiped the sweat from his brow and used Aquila for support to get out of bed. He pulled on her arm until she lowered her shield enough for him to see over it. “We can look at it. I won’t last much longer like this.”

“Dad will be here soon. He’s a real healer, not like that holier-than-thou not-an-elf claiming to be an expert.”

When neither Aquila nor Ilena relaxed their stances in the slightest, Mead pushed forward and picked up his bow. “Aky, you said I was in charge. Ilena, please. I can’t do nothing.”

With a grunt, Ilena shoved the Seeker away from the door with her staff. “Fine, but if you so much as look at him wrong…”

Aquila helped Mead out of the cabin and then stuck two fingers in her mouth to whistle. Her blue roan horse trotted up and lowered her head for a pat between the ears. “Up you get, Mead.”

“What about Assan?”

Aquila boosted him up before answering. “Assan isn’t used to combat. There are demons all the way up the mountain. We can’t risk your hart panicking and throwing you.”

“Demons! You never said anything about demons.”

Ilena looked away from the Seeker long enough to frown at Mead. “It’s not your fault. There was no need to worry you.”

Before he can protest, the Breach pulsed again and it was all he could do to both stay mounted and keep a hold on his bow. He pressed his face into the horse’s braided hair and tried to will away the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. “I’m worried anyway.”

But no one listened. Ilena walked next to the Seeker, her magic held just under her skin. Aquila stayed with Mead, her sword sheathed, but shield at the ready. When they crossed paths with demons, she never strayed from Mead and her horse, blocking magic bolts and cutting down the shifting ghouls that came too close. Despite the magic tearing apart his left hand from the inside out, Mead took what shots he could with his bow. He could land two or three before the pain became unbearable and he was forced to pull it back to his chest. By the time they reached the forward camp, he was sweaty from pain and exertion.

“Chain him!” A man in Chantry robes said in the instant before Aquila knocked him out cold with a blow from her shield.

“What have you done?” The Seeker asked.

“I just employed some of your Chantry’s favorite technique: bigger army diplomacy.”

The hooded woman with a raven signet pinned to her collar hid a smile behind her hand. “I suppose that is one way of putting it.”

“Aky, please. We’re all going through enough.” Mead slipped off the horse’s back and rubbed her nose before looking between the Chantry folk. “So, what now?”

The hooded woman spread her hands out on the map in front of her. “There are two ways to reach the ruins of the Temple. Through the valley where the bulk of the Inquisition’s forces are engaged, or up this mountain path. It is faster, but the scouting party we last sent that route has not returned. We do not know what fate befell them.”

“That’s better than letting these blood-thirsty _shems_ surround us,” Ilena said. “We’ll take the mountain path and find your little lost scouts and then we’re going home and you can clean up this mess yourselves.”

The woman gave them a smile she probably thought was mysterious, but clearly said, “You can think that, if you want.” Ilena and Aquila shot her identical glares before helping Mead back onto the horse and urging the Seeker forward.

\---

Torchlight kept the worst of the night at bay. Aquila’s glowing shield did a number on the rest. She sat with one eye on her charcoal drawing and one on the darkness surrounding them. Ilena had scratched runes through the snow and into the dirt: warding, shock, paralysis, but still eyed every _shem_ that walked past them. With a quiet sigh, Mead lowered his whittling and looked between them. “You’re really not making me any less nervous.”

“We’re not safe here,” Ilena said. “They’re just waiting for us to lower our guard and then they’ll prop you up on some kind of pedestal and use you to justify their holy war.”

“I know, but this isn’t what I meant when I said I didn’t want to be locked into that cabin all the time. And you need to try to get along with them. Whether or not they have other plans, I’m the only one who can close the tears in the Veil-”

“According to them,” Aquila interjected.

“-and we could really use their resources trying to get to all of them.” He stared at Aquila until she met his eyes. “I know it’s your job to be cynical, but can you try?”

Rebellion on their lips in and in their eyes, Ilena and Aquila both, nonetheless, nodded, their mouths quirked like they’d eaten something sour.

“Thank you.” Mead returned to his carving. Wings were troublesome. He was always torn between detailing the feathers and leaving them as one, smooth piece. Aquila would be delighted either way that he’d made her a little eagle for her namesake, but it wasn’t just for her. He made the carvings for himself, too. Had to prove that he could do something and do it well and-

“Serah? That is, um…” An elf with lovingly repaired, drab, brown clothes and a scar cutting across the tip of her ear stood at the edge of Ilena’s wards, clasping and rubbing her hands together.

Ilena pushed a Dalish handpie into the young woman’s hands. “It’s alright. You can come closer. This is all just to keep the _shems_ at bay.”

She didn’t come any closer, nor did her stress seem to lessen any, with how her chin was tucked tight down into her collar bones. “They’ve been, that is, they’ve been saying you’re the Herald? Is that true?”

After dropping his tools, Mead rubbed both eyes with the heels of his palms. How was he supposed to-

“Yes,” Aquila said. “Yes he is. The Herald of Andruil. These Chantry folks can’t tell Andraste from their own asses, let alone Andruil, so they made a mistake when they saw her help him out of the Fade. See his bow? And she removed his vallaslin because he doesn’t need to be marked to show his devotion.”

Mead tried to stop her, but he was too stunned by the impromptu speech to form words before the young woman was gone, running off to tell everyone else the ‘truth.’ He moaned into his hands. “Why did you do that?”

“You’re the one cursed with this fucking thing. That almost killed you, in case you forgot. It’s time you and your people got something out of it.”

“You could have asked us, first,” Ilena said. She had a frown, but it didn’t go past her mouth. Mead had known her long enough to recognize the grudging respect on his friend’s face. Were they finally going to get along?

“I just came up with it. When was I supposed to ask?” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Besides, do you have a better idea?”

Ilena didn’t give her a response, but she didn’t seem to need one, going back to her drawing.

“Cassandra isn’t going to like this,” Mead said, fumbling with his carving.

“She tried to put you in chains. When you were dying. I don’t care what she likes.” Aquila sighed. “I wish I could say I don’t know what’s taking Dad so long to get here, but I’m sure they’re protecting everyone from the demons and doing what they can to neutralize the rifts, assuming they can’t close them, which is a pretty big assumption.”

“You’re really certain your human father knows more about magic than the elves,” Ilena grumbled. It was a weak attempt to rebuild her former ire.

“Don’t be cross.” She added a line to her drawing. “I’m sure my dad knows more about magic than that bald, Dalish-slandering idiot. Have you heard him talk down to every other elf that crosses his path? He’s an honorary human with that chip on his shoulder.”

“You do know you’re a human, right?” Ilena drawled.

“Human by blood, not by institution. People are people and should be treated equally, as my mum says. If this Inquisition wants to claim it was their god that ‘helped,’ there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to, also. I was just a little faster at getting the words out. I’m sure you can come up with way better speeches for next time. I’ll just make sure they shut up and listen.”

“You’re still ridiculously tall.”

\---

Caught between a hot flash and a cold spell, Mead knew someone was approaching before he even heard them. Ilena hadn’t been so obvious with her magic before the explosion. Maybe she was worried about him - well, more than usual. Or maybe she was trying to counter Aquila and her whole ‘freezing the ground where she walks’ aesthetic. It was all a lot of posturing unnecessary for combat and- Creators, he was starting to think like Andruil’s Herald, wasn’t he? If he was judging the usefulness of things in combat. But he didn’t have time to think about that. He spoke even as he turned. “Hello, Commander.”

“How did you know-”

_No one else upsets both Aquila and Ilena so much._

“Well, nevermind how you knew it was me. People have been talking. About your bow, I mean. It’s too plain. Too simple for the Herald of Andraste and I wanted to offer you the pick of the Inquisition’s armory.”

Mead held his hand in a signal to keep Ilena and Aquila quiet. He let Cullen finish and then bullied his features into the Important Person expression Ilena had been making him practice and his tilted his head so he wasn’t looking up at the human like a lost halla. “My bow is made of ironbark and suits me better personally than anything in your stores could. Further, as the Herald of Andruil, it would be heresy to use a human weapon.”

“You’re not- That’s a hunting bow, not a war bow. It’s not as effective-”

“Commander, I say this with no ego, but my bow is the best in all of Ferelden. Keep your judgement of weapons to ones you are actually familiar with.” Without looking away from Cullen, Mead drew his bow and fired an arrow at one of Cassandra’s armored training dummies. His arrow pierced through the armor and lodged halfway into the wooden pole.

Cullen stuttered and wrung his hands and tried to come up with another argument before rubbing the back of his neck and walking back to his command tent. The moment he was out of sight, Mead wilted into Ilena’s waiting arms.

“That was amazing! You did a great job. I’m really proud of you. That’s exactly how you should have done that.” Even though Aquila was there to see it, she hugged him around the middle and touched their foreheads together. “I really am proud.”

“I didn’t like that. I don’t want to act like I’m better than anyone.” He paused. “Don’t say it.”

Aquila did anyway. “You are better than him.”

“Aky-”

“She’s right for once,” Ilena said.

The protest clattered against Mead’s teeth. Aquila hadn’t been wrong once since Dawen hired her, but also he really didn’t want to encourage them, but he also wanted them to get along. In the end he said nothing.

“Anyway, you did amazing. You know, we could just have you stand there all cool and silent and I’ll do all the talking.”

“Yes, that would work really, well. You have a great profile for it. Very regal,” Aquila agreed.

“No. You’d be a little too… Harsh with them. We’re trying to save the world, Ilena. I can do it.” He might regret saying that later, but given the sharp glint in Ilena’s eye, he thought it was the right choice.

\---

The Inquisition had a problem. A problem with three heads, four elf-ears and more magic than anyone in the Chantry was comfortable with. Not that magic was the problem. No, magic they knew how to handle, even if it made them uncomfortable. No, the problem was that the Herald - of Andruil - and his two closest companions made friends with every animal they crossed. Including the bears of the Hinterlands.

When the first reports came back to Leliana that bears curled up around the Herald’s camp and sat fat guard, she laughed and replied with admonishments that it wasn’t the time for jokes. However, when Lace Harding sent an exhaustive report with measurements of the bears and how much of the Inquisition stores Ilena had fed them, there was no doubting the veracity. (That’s not true. Josephine didn’t believe it until one came to sleep in the wall-less shelter with the Herald’s hart in Haven.)

By all accounts, the bears should have been the worst of it. Few animals ate more and few animals caused more panic, but again, the Inquisition had a problem. A problem so large that apparently the Herald’s human companion couldn’t handle it because Aquila was never seen at the same time as the springy, cuddly, troublesome, piebald fox. It - The Iron Bull claimed it was a female fox, but given how it never sat still, people doubted this - was a menace to everything good and organized in Haven. It ran under tables and between people’s legs and ate directly off of the Herald’s plate and kept climbing into Ilena’s lap, only to be summarily dropped on the floor.

Things only escalated when the fox gained the loyalty of the local fennec foxes. It was often found sleeping in a pile of them. Cullen truly believed that the Breach had heralded the end of days when he found the fox riding one of the Herald’s bear friends. He drank heavily that night and seriously considered taking lyrium again. He might have, if Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra had not all joined him with their own bottles of wine or mead.

“Cassandra… Is this what you imagined when Divine Justinia approached you about recreating the Inquisition?”

“I imagined Hawke as Inquisitor, so if Varric is to be believed… Yes. I thought it would be similar to this.”

Leliana hurt herself laughing, but no one had any sympathy.

\---

Aquila mastering the fox transformation, and giving Ilena all the credit, had brought them closer together, but not close enough to explain why Ilena was half in Aquila’s lap on the floor when Mead woke up. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, but no, they were still sitting far too close with their heads pressed together over a charcoal-streaked parchment. He almost didn’t want to ask what the whispering was about, but he’d learned that it was better to know than be surprised later.

“Um… What are you… drawing?”

Ilena looked up first, a smear of charcoal on her cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ve got it handled.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Clearing his throat, Mead got off his bed and moved to sit on theirs and look over Ilena’s shoulder. Aquila shuffled the pages before he made it and the sheet on top was a drawing of him from the side as he fired an arrow from his bow. She tried to hide the ruse by sketching Assan to the side, but he wasn’t fooled. Experience told him what to do, though he felt bad for manipulating them. Saying nothing, Mead simply sighed and leaned back a little, twisting his mouth from neutral to just slightly disappointed and pulling his eyebrows down. It wasn’t hard; that was how he really felt, but still, they were his friends.

Ilena cracked first. “Oh fine.” She flipped through the pages and shoved one at him.

His bow took up a majority of the page - he recognized the grip and carving. Inside of it sat the Inquisition’s sunburst eye. Vines trailed down from the bow’s arms and carried both flowers and thorns. The flowers Ilena had drawn - they were her favorite and he’d seen her sketches for years. His heart clenched at them working together. “It looks amazing.”

Ilena jerked her head at Aquila, but since they were sitting so close, it knocked them together. “This one said they’re going to try to make you their Inquisitor and I wasn’t having any of that, but we might not really have a choice with the hole they ripped in the sky, so this is us trying to make the best of it.”

“We hate the sunburst behind the eye, but the eye looks creepier without it.”

“Andruil wouldn’t agree with allying with the _shems_ , but this is better than just rolling over and letting them have their way just because we don’t want the world to end.” Ilena crossed her arms over her chest. “If your mercenary company was stronger, we wouldn’t have to deal with these idiots at all.”

“Sorry for not being big enough to commit genocide.”

Mead’s hands clenched on the paper, waiting for the other boot to drop, but instead of a scathing response, Ilena gave her laughter and it was beautiful and he’d never felt so relieved in his entire life. For the first time, he felt as if they could really do it. As if the three of them were going to get through everything alright. “I… I’m really happy you two are getting along. It… It means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Ilena’s cheeks pinked and she didn’t look back at him. “We’re just trying to make it easier on you. You’re going through so much. We know that thing is still hurting your hand and you hate fighting and…”

“And your feelings are the most important thing,” Aquila said, as if she hadn’t tried to befriend Ilena from the moment they met. She reached back and patted him on the knee. “We’ll get through this mess. Promise.”

\---

As the humans sang their ridiculous hymn, Ilena shook with rage. The surrounding snow melted and Mead felt warm for the first time since falling into the abandoned mine. Aquila leaned into her and, at first, he thought she was seeking the magical heat, but then he saw the scrap of paper she was scribbling on.

“How do you even know this?” Ilena asked, with no care for the singers glaring her way.

“Papa’s Dalish. I told you. Do you think enough people will know it, through?”

Mead leaned in and tilted his head to read the scratchy writing.

_Melava inan enansal_

_ir su aravel tu elvaral_

_u na emma abelas…_

“Are you suggesting we sing Suledin after they’re done with this display?”

“Yes,” Aquila said. “I can use magic to make your voices louder, too. Dad is really good at sound manipulation. I managed to pick some up.”

Mead shifted in his seat and pulled on his sleeves. “Everyone will stare at us.”

“They’ll stare at you anyway, _falon._ We came back from the dead. We need to show them it was the Creators that did it, not their Maker or Andraste. I can do it alone, if I have to.”

“No. No, I love singing with you. I’ll do it.” He glanced at Aquila. “Will you…?”

“Just the magic. I can’t help. Not with this. I can only prop you up.”

“But you know-” Mead cut himself off. “You’re probably right. It sounds like they’re wrapping up.” He took several deep breaths. “I’m not ready for this.”

Ilena took his hand and laced their fingers together. “I’m not either, but we can do it. Together.”

“Together.”

\---

The Western Approach loomed stifling and lifeless around Ilena. With magic regulating her temperature, she’d gone ahead to scout while Aquila and Mead waited out the worst of the day’s heat in the Inquisition camp. Well, Mead waited it out. Last she’d seen, the idiot human was in her fox form, baking in the sun like a lizard and kicking up sand in her dreams. She hadn’t seen Hawke’s markers by the time her horse needed to turn back. Grumbling about stupid humans who thought they were avians, but were actually loud, obnoxious ground-dwellers with four legs she turned and rode back through the wastes.

The camp was in uproar when she returned. Where only a few ‘night’ watchers should have been awake, everyone was huddled together and clamoring. A spell was half-formed in Ilena’s hand before she realized the exclamations were joy and laughter rather than fear. Annoyance furrowed beneath her vallaslin, Ilena hopped off her horse and shoved her way through the crowd to Mead.

He was the source of the ruckus.

Rather, the sopping-wet, piebald fox and the fish in her mouth that he was holding was the ruckus. Aquila’s fur was matted with sand and mud, but her tail wagged as happily as any successful hunting hound. The wagging only increased when she spotted Ilena.

“I should have known,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “I go out to do real work and-”

“Ilena, look!”

“Yes, I see her.”

“She has a fish!”

Ilena scrubbed the sand off her face with both palms. All she wanted was a nap. They were going to ride all night through the desert until just a sliver of a single moon and thanks to Aquila’s shenanigans, everyone would be tired and cranky. “You’re a vegetarian!”

Mead wilted, the tips of his ears drooping. He held Aquila out to Ilena. “You don’t think it’s interesting that she found a fish in the middle of the desert?”

“I think she magicked an ice block to soak herself and then illusioned a rock to look like a fish.”

Aquila wriggled out of Mead’s grasp, padded up to Ilena and bit deep into the fish, splattering her dust-stained boots with blood. The Inquisition soldiers laughed and cheered until fire burst from the end of Ilena’s staff. She spun in a circle, glaring everyone into submission. When they dispersed, she leaned over until she was nose-to-nose with the fox. “I’m not impress-”

She should have known better.

Should have expected the human to shove the fish in her mouth.

There was going to be a murder when she caught her.

\---

Skyhold was never silent. Horses shifted and scratched in their stalls. The injured and dying moaned from the healers’ complex. Hammer-on-anvil strikes rang through the castle and over the sound of sloshing water coming up from the well. Practicing soldiers grunted in time with burdened workmen. Shoes slapped against stone as servants ran through the castle on assignment. Josephine’s gaggle of courtiers never stopped complaining in the main hall. Skyhold was a loud, raucous place.

When the wave of oncoming silence reached Ilena and Aquila, they sprinted out of their respective hideaways and met at the top of the stairs before the main hall.

“What’s happened?”

Ilena shook her head and jumped straight to the ground, ignoring the stairs. Aquila followed with loud clanks of metal plates. Together they dodged through stunned castle staff wearing Mead’s livery. They found Mead at the center of the silence. He stood, taller than Aquila, his hair in a delicate twist of braids, beads and feathered charms. He held an all-black dog under one arm. The other…

Inquisitor Moirdeimmead Jaïv He’evon Lavellan’s other arm was stretched out, his fingers tight around the neck of a refugee. The refugee was a tall human with a scar through one eyebrow and stains on his clothes from worse than dirt. He reeked of alcohol and piss.

Ilena snatched the puppy from Mead and cuddled it close to her chest. It whined and pressed its bloody nose into her armpit. She exhaled boiling steam into the mountain air. Next to her, the ground froze as Aquila, too, realized what had happened.

“You come here and take what is offered from my open hand,” Mead said, his voice deathly even, “and think that under the shelter of my generosity you can harm an innocent creature?”

“The beast needed to learn its place.” At the sound of the man’s voice, the puppy whined and burrowed deeper into Ilena’s hold. “Much like you, knife-ear.”

The ice shattered under Aquila’s feet, but she didn’t move, didn’t kill the man, though the desire was in her eyes. Ilena moved closer to her and held her breath, lest she become a dragon and breathe fire on the human. Their anger made them shake at the same frequency.

Mead released the man like a bloody rag. He lifted his chin as Ilena taught him and turned his back on the human and his companions. He accepted a handkerchief from a scout and wiped his hands with it before holding it out to Ilena. “Would you?”

Unable to recognize the person before her, Ilena blinked at Mead in confusion before understanding his order. She shifted her hand under the puppy and snapped her fingers. The handkerchief went up in flames.

Mead turned his head, but not enough to actually look at his soldiers - this motion was copied from, not taught by, Aquila. “It seems someone was lax and forgot to remove the refuse from my castle. Rectify the situation.”

He wore the persona through the castle and all the way back to his quarters, his stunned friends stumbling behind. Then, he collapsed to on the rug in front of hearth and pressed his face into his braids. The wail that clawed its way out of his lungs tore at their souls. “Why are people cruel?”

Ilena dropped to the rug with him and set the puppy down. She stroked his shoulders and pulled his head into her lap. “I don’t know. You did so well. You didn’t repay violence with violence. I’m so proud of you. You could have done anything to that filth, but you kept your morals and your honor.” She touched her forehead to his mass of braids.

Unsteady on its legs, the puppy ambled over and licked the tears off his face. It whined and rubbed its fuzzy cheek against Mead’s until he turned enough that it could lick under his chin and across his cheek with slobbery, puppy kisses. With a sound like he was a wounded animal himself, Mead pressed his face into the soft fur.

At least, until Aquila pulled the puppy away. “Let me give her a bath first, Mead. Creators know no one else cared enough to before now.”

From Ilena’s lap, Mead watched Aquila dunk the puppy in the washing bowl, tickling it - her? - under its chin and speaking to it in baby talk that was half-Old Tevene. Charmed by her animal magic, the puppy sat as still as a furry potato for the duration of the bath.

Ilena pushed a stray strand of hair behind Mead’s ear. “What do you want to name her?”

Mead sniffed and settled back against her. His voice was rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in days. “We’re just going to heal her up and give her a good home.”

The puppy licked Aquila on the nose, who laughed and then pressed their noses together.

Ilena sighed. “So what do you want to name her?”

Mead refused to answer and tried to look away from the puppy. Aquila held her out to Ilena, who dried her fur with a wordless spell before setting her on the rug. The puppy wasted no time walking back to Mead’s face and snuffling her puppy breath all over him. After three more licks and two nose-touches, Mead relented. “Liala.”

Aquila sat cross-legged next to them and scritched Liala just above the tail. “No chance this little girl is going to be anything but spoiled, hmm?”

“Not a one.”

Mead sat up and pulled Liala up to lick under his chin as he cradled her to his chest. He kissed her forehead and rubbed his cheek against it. Through the curtain of his hair, he looked at Ilena. “I thought you were afraid of dogs?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but then froze, hand halfway to petting Liala. “S-she’s a dog?”

Aquila half-fell into the fireplace with the strength of her laughter.

Fear and confusion warred on Ilena’s face. Mead had nearly resolved to find a proper new home for Liala when Ilena, hand shaking, reached out and touched her again. “I… I guess, I can raise her to be good enough.”

“We’ll do it together.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mead’s eyes snapped open. Though it was still night, his room was lit by the roaring fireplace and the collection of candles on Ilena’s desk. Ilena slept on the cot, curled up into a ball so small his heart hurt to see it. Aquila rested under a pile of blankets, Liala on her chest, snuffling and making sleepy puppy sounds. Mead pulled his sweat-damp hair off his neck and sat on the edge of his bed. Even both of them guarding couldn’t keep the nightmares at bay. They were a mix of green rift magic and red from the burning forests of his home. 

Aquila had sent for her parents their mercenary company the first free moment she had after the explosion at the conclave and that had been months ago. Where were they? Were they even still alive? Was Clan Lavellan? Ambassador Montilyet hadn’t been able to make contact, nor had Sister Nightingale's people reported any trace of them. His parents weren’t fighters. What if a rift opened in their camp? Had his little sisters needed to run away in the middle of the night for their own safety? Was that why his nightmares woke him?

A soft thump drew him out of his thoughts. Liala had slid off of Aquila and was waddling toward him around her fat puppy belly. She sniffed his ankle and put her paws on his leg in a clear request to be picked up. “So it’s only her magic that keeps your attention?” he whispered.

Liala sniffed his palm and curled up next to his leg in answer. Mead petted her between the ears, one popped and one long still bent halfway. He loved Ilena. He would never laugh at his oldest and dearest friend, but her expression had been rather funny when she realized Liala was a dog. “You’ll help her get over her fear, hmm?”

Wood snapped and cracked in the fireplace and the flames leapt to eat the fresh wood. Before Mead’s eyes adjusted to the shift in light, Aquila was on her feet with her armor flying toward her through the air. Mead stood and held his hand out. “It’s alright. It was just a log in the fireplace.”

Aquila stamped her armored boot on the floor and ice shot forward, snaking its way up to Ilena, who woke with a snarl. She slung her shield over her shoulder. “Not that. There’s a magical disturbance. A strong one.”

Ilena was dressed before Mead could process that. He caught Aquila’s arm before she could leave. “A rift?”

“Maybe” she said at the same time Ilena said, “Stay here.” 

Aquila nodded to Ilena. “She’s right. Stay here. We’ll subdue it. You can come out with Bull and the Chargers when the sun’s out.”

“If it’s a rift, I’m the only one who-”

“We’ve had this discussion before. Let us deal with the demons and then once it’s light out-”

“Ilena, I’m not a child! Let me help!”

They traded looks, a comment about his lack of vallaslin obvious in their silence.

“You two are the ones perpetuating that story about me being the Herald of Andruil. You can’t have it both ways. Either I’m a destined hero or I’m a fawn to be protected by the rest of the herd. Haven’t I proved myself in combat? Aren’t I good enough?”

Ilena looked at the floor, her hands tightening on her staff. The tips of her ears pointed out to the sides, a clear sign of stress for someone who knew her as well as Mead. He hated making her look like that, but he hated more the thought of her, of both of them, getting injured when he could help. When he could prevent it.

Aquila shook her head, but threw his armor at him. “I have to go. Now. The pull on the Fade’s getting stronger. I’ll mark a vantage point for you.” She was gone in a flip of her cape and loud clanging on the stairs. When he strained his ears, he could hear her calling for the guard, her tone clipped and orders precise. 

Mead bit his bottom lip and looked at Ilena, holding his armor in front of his naked chest. “If you really think it’s for the best… I’ll stay.” He hadn’t meant to test her, but once the words were out there between them, he could see them for what they were. Ilena wanted him to stay behind  _ and _ loved countermanding Aquila. If she told him to stay behind now, if she took what she wanted, it would mean… It would mean… He didn’t know. A big knot of something in his chest would stay there, but he didn’t know what it meant nor did he have the time to pick it apart.

“It would be for the best.” Ilena looked at the fireplace and growled. “But we may not have the luxury of that.” She released her staff and it stood up, the iron bark perfectly balance. “I’ll help you into that.”

Were it anyone else, extra hands would have gotten in the way, but they’d been traveling and hunting together for years. When he could hear them, he knew her footsteps from anyone else’s in all of Thedas. Moving together was as easy as breathing, even if it was becoming less unique thanks to Aquila. He considered it as they raced out of the castle after her. At first, their synchronicity was thanks to her extensive training as a mercenary and familiarity experience working with others. But there was no denying that Aquila had conformed to them specifically and that even Ilena altered her strikes in combat to accommodate her sword.

Assan waited for them at the gate. Mead only nodded to the stable hand before jumping up and pulling Ilena behind him. From atop his hart, he could see the rift in the distance. A huge thing that lit the entire horizon with a shifting, green light. “This must have just opened? But how?”

“The Veil was weak in that area. Maybe Corypheus taught one of his Lieutenants how to open rifts?”

Mead signalled Assan forward, thankful for the hours of training to accustom him to demons and magic. “I thought he needed the Anchor to open rifts?”

“That’s what he said, but you can’t trust magisters to be honest about the color of the sky, let alone magic. Their whole conceit about starting the Blight depends on their ‘maker’ being real.” 

Mead could hear the scrunch in Ilena’s nose and wanted to laugh, but his chest was tight with tension. The Anchor in his hand ached with each pulse of the rift. A Inquisition soldier stood beside each of Aquila’s frozen path-markers and signalled them forward. An ache started in his back as they pushed through the trees. “That’s only the top of the rift and we’re headed toward a cliff.”

“Don’t worry about it. If that show-off didn’t make a ramp down for us, I will,” Ilena said. Her skin and armor warmed against his back as her magic coursed through her body.

Assan slowed as the approached the cliff, some combination of the thinning trees and animal instinct giving him pause. Aquila’s horse greeted them at the edge with a loud neigh. Heart in his throat, Mead dismounted and peered over the edge. The sight below stole his breath for more reasons than he could articulate. 

A rage demon the size of a small hut smoldered on the ground with four swords held over its back in case it wasn’t entirely dead. The warriors’ armor was dirty and scorched, but Mead could still make out the shining gemstones marking them as from Meshurok Company. On the far side sat Lavellan’s aravels. His clan. His family. All of them, come to Skyhold under Meshurok’s protection. No wonder it had taken Aquila’s parents so long.

“No wonder Leliana’s scouts never came back,” Ilena said, trying not to sound impressed. “Hound would never let anyone report on her movements.”

“She never told me they didn’t come back!” Alarm shot up from Mead’s feet, even though the demons were defeated and the danger seemed to have passed.

“It just would have worried you!” Ilena took his wrist. “Come on. I found the stupid fox’s path down. She covered it with dirt so we wouldn’t slip. As if we would slip on a little ice.”

He didn’t almost mention that she’d slipped on Aquila’s ice plenty of times on the way to the Conclave, but it was in the forefront of his mind as they stepped carefully down. He was glad their clan was still in their aravels. He would have run down at full speed, heedless of the danger. Aquila met them at the bottom of her ramp with her father at her shoulder, looking ash-stained but otherwise mirroring her delighted posture. The resemblance hit Mead like a blast of cold air to the face.

“Well met, Inquisitor,” Fox Meshurok said. His eyes crinkled at the corners the same way Aquila’s did. “If you would do us the honor of closing this up, we can get back on our way to your nice castle.”

Mead looked across the valley, but no demons remained. In the distance, he saw Dawen’s bow, but said nothing lest Ilena sprint to him prematurely. He held up his left hand and it juttered before clicking into place like a key in a lock. The magic felt like his blood being sucked out of his palm and drained into the rift as it wobbled and shivered before collapsing with a loud pop. He clutched his arm to his chest and felt Ilena and Aquila both put their hands on him for comfort. “Thanks. I’m alright. Really. I spotted Dawen over by the treeline. Next to the fat birch tree.”

Ilena bit her lip and hesitated for a moment before touching their foreheads together, squeezing his wrist and darting away. Aquila shifted around him and put her hand in the center of his back. “Come on. Your family’s inside and Dawen’s still riding with them, so he and Ilena should be back in a tick.”

‘How do you know?’ and ‘You just got here’ got all of the way to his mouth before Mead decided not to say them. It wasn’t that they were rude, it’s that it wasn’t like him to bring it up, was it? He hadn’t thought he lacked the confidence to say what was on his mind - his archery was peerless - but maybe failing to receive his vallaslin had meant more that he wanted to admit. He glanced at Aquila and her face had all of the excitement roiling in his chest at the thought of seeing his family again. What would they say? Would Papae be proud?

She caught his hand, just the tips of his fingers, as they approached his family’s aravel. “Hey, if you need anything, or to talk or… I’ll be in my family’s camp, alright? You can come find me or- or just whistle. I’ll know it’s you. Dad said they’re not going to try to make it up to the castle until at least tomorrow. I’m still here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Aquila.” Relief filled him so full he felt numb. But why? It was his family. He was finally home. It wasn’t as if he was going back to the castle filled with hostile Andrastian humans. He swallowed, closed his hands around her fingers and nodded. He released her and went inside.

His two little sisters barrelled into him, nearly knocking him out of the aravel. “We missed you!” “You’re back!” they cried at the same time, their faces pressed into his chest. Norn grabbed his left arm and hugged it to her chest. “Did you really blow up the  _ shems _ ?”

“No! How would I-! Absolutely not!”

Selin stared up, her brown eyes wide. “Did Andruil do it, then?”

“Girls, girls, let him breathe.” His mother laughed and pushed her way in to give him a hug. “Welcome home,  _ da’len. _ Have you been eating enough?”

He stood on his tiptoes to touch their foreheads. “Yes, Mamae. Ilena and Aky would never let me get away with skipping a meal.”

“Good. I’m glad they’re looking out for you. Fox showed us the letter Aquila sent when it happened. I thought the poor thing was going to cry out her lung or something equally dramatic to try to make up for it. She’s not still blaming herself, is she?”

Mead opened his mouth to answer, but had nothing to say. Had she ever blamed herself? She never said as much, at least not to him. Actually, now that he thought about it, Ilena had never blamed her, either, and Ilena blamed her for everything. Did that mean she  _ did _ blame herself and Ilena was being kind? “Um…”

“Don’t worry about it,” his father said, pulling him into an embrace of his own. “I’m sure the girls are fine.” He dragged Mead over to a cushioned seat over their clothes storage. “How are you feeling? Herald of Andruil. I always knew you were magic with a bow. It’s nice that others can see it now.”

The emotions that had been roiling in his chest spilled over, forcing tears from his eyes. His sisters were asking more questions, but he couldn’t answer them. He just clung to his father and put his face in his shoulder and let himself be comforted. Let himself feel safe. 

By early morning, the sounds from the aravels and Meshurok’s mercenary camp had died out. He’d thought his return would have caused the biggest commotion, but it was nothing compared with Ilena’s shriek and, though he’d never call it that to her face, temper tantrum over her father’s new partner. New  _ shem _ partner. He was one of Meshurok’s people with salt and pepper hair and a broken leg that had him laid up in the aravel. He and Dawen slept on the opposite side, their breaths mingled with everyone else’s.

It was familiar. It was home.

But Mead couldn’t sleep. He was exhausted with eyes sore from crying and tiredness, but still sleep didn’t come. Selin kicked the back of his knee in her sleep and he smiled because she only kicked during happy dreams, but even that wasn’t enough to take him over the edge. Then he heard a scratching. It came from the far door, the one he couldn’t reach without climbing over everyone. He sat up and found Ilena, just as awake as him, staring at it.

Magic curling off her fingers, Ilena pushed the door open. The magic winked out and she sighed with her whole body, telling Mead exactly what, or rather, who, had been scratching at the door. Ilena picked up Aquila-as-a-fox, closed the door and tiptoed around their families, magic helping her hop the wide space where his parents slept. She unceremoniously dropped Aquila, though she landed on all four feet. Like a cat, Aquila walked in a circle twice before curling up next to Mead’s legs. With a heavy sigh, and feigned reluctance in every inch of her body, Ilena laid down on Aquila’s other side. Mead fell asleep with just his pinky finger touching her hand.

\---

Josephine’s office was nothing like the flat, cleared space in front of the Keeper’s aravel, but sitting across from her at her desk felt like it. Mead’s mind swam with instructions and warnings and information and bloodlines, of all things, and there was an undercurrent of ‘You’ve already messed up’ even though they hadn’t even left for Orlais. Aquila stood behind his shoulder, her posture professional and expression even. He would have thought she wasn’t paying attention if not for the freezing air she exhaled through her flared nostrils.

Ilena’s posture, seated next to him, was similarly perfect, but her magic roiled under her skin and made his left palm ache - not that he’d ever tell her of the small discomfort. Someone had to say something and that someone had to be him because his friends were determined not to speak over him. Only his mother didn’t seem to care, as she examined the wall hangings. But not in the way the woman that birthed him didn’t care, Di’ine was distracted, but even then her body was angled toward Mead.

“Inquisitor, please,” Josephine repeated. “You must approve the design for the ball at the Winter Palace. I know you have reservations, but I assure you-”

“Lady Montilyet,” Di’ine interrupted, holding onto the wall-hanging embroidered through with gold and accented with precious gems. “Did you know this was a weft-faced twill weave?”

“Mrs. He’evon, I don’t believe that now is the time to-”

She stalked up to the desk, as if Josephine were prey, and stood behind Mead, putting a hand on his shoulder. “ _ Lady _ Montilyet.” She spoke without raising her voice, but her words were sharp and staccato. “I am the honored tailor of Clan Lavellan whose garments are worn by more than half of the Keepers at any given Arlathvhen. If your ‘good breeding’ and bard training, yes, I did notice the way you hold your quill, doesn’t let you identify even the most basic of fabrics, then your opinion on the significance of what my son wears to the ball at  _ Halam’shiral _ ,” the words were as sharply elvhen as an ironbark dirk, “means nothing.”

Di’ine looked down her perfect nose. “And I am not at the sufferance of my husband’s family. I am Di’ine Ferelian and my honor stands on its own.”

Josephine did not stumble over her response, but it took her several moments and as many deep breaths to respond. She steepled her fingers. “What is it you would like to suggest?”

Di’ine threw the vellum with Josephine and her tailor’s designs onto the floor and plucked her quill off the desk. Fully prepared to sketch her design on the wooden desktop, she gave Josephine only a small window in which to provide a new sheet of vellum. With pen strokes long and sure, the designs came to life under her hand in seconds. Ilena smirked and picked Liala up off the floor. Her concerns about Liala’s dog status apparently paled in comparison to watching a master at work.

Mead’s outfit had a long cape pinned over his left shoulder for freedom of movement. His left arm itself was bare save for the wrist guard and three-fingered glove. As Di’ine detailed the chest, she muttered, “You have to wear a shirt dear, we can only scandalize the humans so much.” The design ended without boots and only a small insignia around the right bicep to show his allegiance to the Inquisition.

The second outfit was more ceremonial armor than anything, though the breastplate was kept flat for functionality. She muttered a sentence in full elvhen, from which Mead only caught the words ‘stupid,’ ‘humans,’ ‘breasts’ and then ‘armor’ said so sarcastically it was a wonder her eyes didn’t roll out of head. The cape was narrower than Mead’s and split up to the waist. The model had Dalish bracers and shin guards, but next to the arms and legs she added gloves and boots for Aquila. Di’ine shoved the vellum at Josephine. “Have your people wear that red monstrosity. No use pretending you’re anything other than you are.”

“Our goal is to present a unified-”

“I know human nobles aren’t the most astute people in the world, but give yourself some credit in being able to discern that my son and his companions are only part of your Inquisition because they have to be.”

Neither Ilena nor Aquila laughed. Mead intended to rewar- erm, thank them with fruit pies once the meeting was over. His mother, meanwhile, didn’t wait for Josephine to agree. She abandoned the desk and returned to the hangings. In the sweetest voice that had soothed his nightmares for years, she said, “The embroidery on this is really top notch. I’d love to speak with the artist.”

In a voice as if she were speaking around a dragon sleeping on a mound of gaatlok, Josephine said, “I will arrange a meeting for you.”

Still carrying Liala, Ilena lead the way out of Josephine’s office and followed Mead’s silent direction to the kitchen. 

Aquila sat with a clang of armor and draped herself across the first table. “That meeting was so long!”

Ilena set Liala on Aquila’s bench, who immediately crawled into her lap, and sat at the very edge of reasonable speaking range. She picked at a stain dried into the wood, doing her best to look bored, even if Mead could see the fire in her eyes. “Thank the Creators your mother shut her up, or we would have been there all afternoon.”

“Ambassador Montilyet is just doing what she thinks is best…” Mead said, though his heart wasn’t in it. He went through the racks of baked goods until he found the sweet, berry pies that seemed to be the only thing Aquila liked that Ilena would openly agree to maybe, also, a little, just maybe, enjoying.

“Best for the humans,” Aquila said. She didn’t sit up, but used both hands to stuff the pie into her face. It was a wonder she didn’t choke on it.

“You’re some kind of blood traitor.” Ilena nibbled at her pie, but the white-knuckled grip she had on it said volumes.

“Humans deserve a few more traitors,” Aquila said, though the words were completely unintelligible around her mouthful of crumbs. Mead only knew what she’d said because this was the seventeenth time they’d had this conversation.

“And your loyalty is so fickle, you decided it had to be you.”

Aquila shrugged, a deviance from her usual rude gesture. She snaked her hand across the table and picked up another pie, still dramatically splayed out.

Mead could only smile.

\---

Mead loved Assan, but his hart wasn’t the only reason he loved traveling, though he was one of the few things keeping a smile on his face as they rode toward the Orlesian Winter Palace. He didn’t call it by its stolen name. It felt like ash in his mouth. He shook his head. Another reason he liked riding was because Aquila’s mare wasn’t particularly tall, which meant they were about the same height while mounted. Liala rode in one of her saddle bags, which was a trial on its own. Liala wanted to ride with him, but Assan wasn’t comfortable enough with the little, black puppy to allow her so close yet. That meant only Aquila’s animal charming allowed her to come at all. Her nose poked out of the bag and sniffed the air in Mead’s direction. He heard the smallest whimper.

“We’re almost at the camp, then you can lick his face all you want.”

Several soldiers turned to stare at Aquila, not having heard the puppy. Two prayed to Andraste’s pyre that she hadn’t finally turned into an abomination. Really, he though First Enchanter Vivienne was the closest of all the mages in the Inquisition. She didn’t truly understand spirits and demons the way Ilena and Aquila did. She feared them and feared what she didn’t understand, which compounded the original fear and Mead was giving himself a headache.

None of the Inquisition’s mages were close to losing control. Not since Aquila used a sharp knife, a pig’s carcass and some very creative threats on all of the Templars who thought they needed ‘supervising.’ His stomach turned. He really, truly, desperately needed to stop thinking about mages. The camp offered him a wonderful distraction. Not because things were wonderful and he could dismount, of course not. But it was a distraction nonetheless.

A black stallion galloped to and fro, kicking over tents and spilling pots. The Inquisition soldiers manning the camp nursed bruises or tried to catch the animal to no avail. He glanced over his shoulder at Carina Meshurok and her mercenaries and the smugness that radiated off of them rivaled even Dorian’s when he made the time amulet work in the false future. Aquila sighed and started to dismount when Ilena hissed, “Don’t you dare.”

She raised both hands and stayed in her saddle, though she threw Mead a questioning glance.

“Ilena has a particular way with horses.” Even as he said it, Mead winced. Ilena’s gelding was bratty, cheeky, slow and the fourth one she’d had since arriving at Skyhold. She gave him a look, but none of her magic came out to tame the horse.

Ilena spent more time shooing the Inquisition soldiers away than she did wrangling the horse. With a combination of nature magic and techniques with proper names that she’d told him at least twice before, she caged the horse in tight enough that she could get close with minimal danger from his hooves. Soft words and small carrots from the seeds her in her pockets calmed him enough to be led from the camp. Well, those are more techniques Dawen had painstakingly trained her in while Mead himself practiced with his bow.

When Ilena brought him back to her gelding, he bit at her ear, only to be stopped by her staff. “Go ahead and get settled. I’ll need most of the night with him.”

Mead took a bemused Aquila into the camp and did his best to calm to the soldiers. Josephine’s entourage of servants and staff for the Winter Palace set things to rights in a manner of moments and he mental a note to compliment her later. She’d looked wilted ever since his mother came into her office and beat her at her own game by throwing out the rule book and making a new one that just said “I win.” He chuckled. Aquila had phrased it that way and Ilena had laughed before she remembered she was still pretending to hate her and frowned every time a giggle came to the surface.

They sat close to the fire, Aquila closer than him, and ate when her Dalish father brought them food. Even though her mother’s people guarded their tent, Aquila stayed awake and in armor until Ilena returned, tired but with all of her fingers. She turned into a fox without removing her armor and curled up next to Mead’s shins. He yawned and helped Ilena settle into the bedroll next to his. “Is he behaving, now?”

“If he knows what’s good for him,” Ilena mumbled as sleep took her.

Dawn came in the blink of an eye and after two more everything was packed and they were again in the saddle. Aquila rode behind, discussing something with her parents. Ilena’s gelding was none-too-happy to be walking next to the stallion who threw his head and snapped his teeth for little, or even no, reason. She kept him in line with sharp commands in elvhen.

After a close encounter with her little finger, Mead asked, “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. I think if I named him now, he would be Death Wish.”

Mead laughed. “What about  _ Banal’ras _ ? That’s a good, strong name.”

“I am not naming my black horse ‘Shadow.’” As Ilena said that, he reached over and bit her reins. She thwaped his nose. “No. You don’t get a vote. This isn’t a democracy.”

Aquila caught up with them and took her place on Mead’s other side. “I see the new boy’s getting along well. Have you come up with a name yet?”

“I suggested  _ Banal’ras _ .”

“You can’t name a black horse ‘Shadow,’” Aquila said, scrunching up her nose.

“I think it’s a great name. Thank you for suggesting it, Mead,” Ilena said far louder than necessary. Mead was too busy wondering how much Elvhen Aquila knew to try and figure out if there was anything more to Ilena’s about face. That’s just what she always did. He was simply resigned the fact they would never get along.

\---

The worst part, the thing that hurt the most, was the acceptance. Mead stumbled out of the Fade bloody and crying and her parents were there. Right there, weapons up, protecting him, guarding him, holding him up. Her dad, the one that gave her the fox shape and all of the personality in it, he slipped his arm under Mead’s and held him up physically. He didn’t ask with words, just his eyes, just a glance at Ilena and everyone else who’d come out.

“She…” He sobbed and his knees gave out. “She stayed to fight the Nightmare Demon.”

Her dad, her  _ dad _ nodded. Nodded with wet eyes and made sure his spouses had heard. “Yeah,” he said, they said. “Yeah, she would do that, wouldn’t she?”

At the camp, they didn’t howl. Fox didn’t burst into magic that sprayed defiance against the night sky. They just stood. Stood silently with their foreheads pressed together and tears on their cheeks. They held each others’ arms so tight surely their bones should have snapped, but they didn’t. They just stood there and accepted it. Because she would do that, wouldn’t she?

Ilena sat in a circle of glass, clutching Liala to her chest. All she could do was repeat, “There were so many wolves. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t do anything. There was nothing I could have done. There were so many wolves.” 

He tried to get close. To comfort her. To… To mourn with her, but her magic was too intense. The air swam with heat that she could only protect Liala from. The glass spread.

They rode in silence the next day. Huge circles of emptiness surrounded both Mead and Ilena and Aquila’s parents. It was like their grief was a physical wall separating them from the Inquisition. That was certainly what it felt like. Liala rode alone on Aquila’s horse, crooning mournfully from her saddlebag. A sob choked Mead because the wail made him remember, made him see Aquila-as-a-fox rolling with Liala in a field and chasing her around and how Liala had wailed when her friend turned back into a person.

“I don’t think I can do this, Ghilenan.”

“Don’t you dare,” she croaked. “Don’t you dare call me that or give up. What would that stupid  _ shem _ say if you just, if you just gave up after that. You can’t. We can’t. We have to… To do this stupid, stupid thing!” Ilena yelled and instead of a pillar of flame, the churned up sand turned to grass, overflowing with little red flowers that turned to the sun, as if they were cold in the desert. They couldn’t be. Only one thing was ever cold in the desert and she was gone. She was left behind. She was in the Fade.

As they summited a dune, a rift crackled in the distance. Magic ripped and snapped, but Mead’s hand didn’t hurt. He didn’t feel anything, really. Ilena kicked Bana into a canter. Bana because she did agree with Aquila: Shadow was a dumb name, so the dumb horse with a dumb name was Bana and they loved him, but Aquila was gone and it was all his fault. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to force back the tears, but they kept coming, kept blurring his vision. He pressed his face into Assan’s neck. “Go follow them. We need to deal with this.”

His arms moved, following instructions of their own. The rift was half-buried in sand and surrounded by Despair Demons. They knew. They heard the wailing hearts from the Fade and it drew them to the mortal world and would he feel the dagger in his heart every time there was a chill in the air? Cold never bothered him. His blood ran hot and he slept without clothes even deep into the winter. Di’ine had cried once. She married his father at the end of autumn and thought he slept without clothes in protest. Thought he hated her so much he’d rather be cold. He spent the rest of the season hot and itchy, but full of love.

Now he was cold. Under the sun and in the desert with Despair Demons dead and full of arrows around him. “I’m cold.” He started at the sound of his own voice. “Ilena, I’m cold.”

She fell to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. She cried into them and shivered. “I’m cold, too!”

He sealed the rift and sank onto the sand next to her, tilted his head until their braids were touching, but the braids were all wrong. Aquila knew so many fancy braids and insisted on tying up everyone’s hair and- and her parents wore their loose. Maybe he should have done the same. Maybe that was the right way to mourn. He pressed their heads together and took her cold hand in his.

And it was cold. Truly, properly cold. The sand was cold. The sand was cold, but the sun was overhead and Ilena’s magic was still and the  _ sand was cold. _ A Despair Demon took him then, took control and made him dig. He turn and dug under where they sat, tossing sand behind him with abandon. Ilena followed suit, digging with all the fury and grief in her heart. Their fingers hit stone, except it wasn’t stone. It was solid and hard and hard to touch because it was frozen. Ice. A block of ice under the sand. They dug faster, Ilena conjuring fat vines to slough the sand to either side. There, under the shadow the rift had cast, under the same sand that had half-buried the rift, was a coffin of transparent ice… Aquila inside.

“You fucking bitch!” Ilena screamed. She screamed without words and kicked the sand and paced in her fury. “How dare you? How dare you!” Fire plumed in both palms and she aimed it at the ice. Fire bellowed out like a geyser, but when it subsided, the coffin was surrounded by glass, but untouched. She beat on it with her fists over Aquila’s closed eyes. “You bitch! How dare you stay behind! How dare you leave us! How dare you do this dramatic shit!”

Her parents crested the dune, then. Her dad slid down the glass on his knees, heedless of how it tore his robes. He was laughing and crying and speaking a spell like he, too, was possessed. He didn’t push Mead and Ilena away, let them touch it, let them reach for her, he just pressed his forehead to the ice and wove his hands in the air over his head like a madman. “Clever, stupid, brave, idiotic child.” The words were a laugh, were a sob. His fists came down onto the ice, but not in defeat. Purple-black lines shot through the lid of ice and then a deafening crack rang out across the sand.

Hands shaking, Fox reached in and cupped Aquila’s blue-tinged cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. “It’ll be alright now, Kit. Little bird. You’re alright.” He looked up at Mead and Ilena through his tears. “This… This is the curse that almost killed me. Almost killed me, but saved her life.” He pressed their foreheads together again and crooned like a lost bird. “It slowed her heart, let her heal, my little kit, oh you’re alive.”

Her mother and Papa knelt next to Fox and reached out with both hands to touch her. Mead nearly fell over in his rush to do the same. He took her hand in both of his and pressed the cold skin to his cheek. She was cold, frozen but not dead. Frozen, but alive. Void, who cared if she was cold, she was always cold. “You’re always cold.”

“She’s always cold,” Ilena echoed. “Stupid, cold  _ shem. _ You’re always cold, aren’t you? Always with the dramatics. Curling up as a fox like you just want company. Sticking tiny, icy feet into my bedroll.” Ilena sobbed and laced her fingers with Aquila’s. “I’m not going to let you get away with that anymore. That or your cold nose!” She sniffed.

“We’ll… We’ll just have to keep her warm, right?”

“I guess! Stupid human.”

Fox pushed forward. Push forward and pulled Aquila up, dragged her into his lap with her head on his shoulder. Slowly, agonizingly, the blue tinge faded from her skin. Her eyelids twitched and her nose scrunched up. “Papa, I’m cold.”

Her Dalish father crowed in delight through his tears. “Hah! She loves me best. I told you.”

Her mother sobbed through her laughter and stole her from her dad, squeezing her so tight Aquila groaned and her fingers squeezed Mead and Ilena’s. “Liala, get off, I can’t breathe…”

Ilena growled and tried to shake off Aquila’s grip. “You won’t be breathing at all when I’m done with you! Who said you could this? Always taking liberties. You’re such an entitled human!””

“Hng, stop it, you’ll wake Mead.” Aquila buried her face in her mother’s neck like it was the scratchy pillow she used in front of the fireplace.

Mead squeezed her fingers back. “I’m right here, Aquila. I’m alright. We’re all alright.”

“Then give me a blanket. I’m cold.”

Ilena made a sound like an angry cat, but wove her fingers in a complex pattern through the air until she had a soft mat of vines that she wrapped around Aquila’s shoulders. She poked her in the ear. “But don’t get used to it! You’re already spoiled, making me carry you around as a Fox.”

Her Dalish father chuckled and wiped the wetness from his face. “No luck there, I’m afraid. I picked her up once as a child and now she demands it all the time.”

Ilena looked over at Mead, who still held Aquila’s hand. “I guess we’re stuck with her.”

He smiled, as much as he could through the salt on his face and the pain that lingered in his chest. “I guess so. You’ll have to be nicer.”

“As if.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is officially the end of my posting every other day streak. See you in the next one!


End file.
